


wheel, snipe, celly, boys!

by pugglemuggle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (god i'm so glad that tag exists), Alternate Universe - Hockey, Banter, Chirping, Chirping as Flirting, Flirting, Kissing, Komi is there for half a second, Locker Room, M/M, Rival Relationship, gratuitous use of hockey slang, wait, which are basically all the same thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugglemuggle/pseuds/pugglemuggle
Summary: It's the first practice of the season, and Bokuto can't wait to get back on the ice. Too bad his rival/captain/boyfriend is also there to give him a hard time.(Or, a wise man once said that chirping and flirting are variations on the same idea. Bokuto and Kuroo certainly agree.)





	wheel, snipe, celly, boys!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HapaxLegomenon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapaxLegomenon/gifts).



> I wrote this for SASO in 2017 and uhhhh never posted it. So here it is. Two years later;;;;;
> 
> You can see the original post here: [LINK](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=9939986#cmt9939986).
> 
> Thanks to HapaxLegomenon for the prompt!!!

“Ready to get your ass kicked?”

Bokuto heaves his hockey bag out of the back of his car, slings it over his shoulder, and turns to face the familiar voice. Across the parking lot next to the door of the arena is a his favorite mess of jet black hair.

“I think the better question is are  _ you  _ ready to get  _ your  _ ass kicked,” Bokuto shouts back with a grin. He shuts the trunk of his yellow sedan and jogs across the parking lot. God, he’s so excited to get on the ice. It’s the first practice of the season, and he wants to  _ skate _ . He feels a little jittery just thinking about it.

Kuroo is waiting by the front entrance, his bright red hockey bag hanging off his shoulder as he leans back against the wall next to the doors. “You sure you’ll be able to keep up with me long enough to actually do that ass-kicking?” 

“Oh, I’m sure.” Bokuto starts up the steps to the arena entrance. “You sure you’ll be able to take my checks?”

“Big talk from someone who bulked down as much as you did during the offseason.”

“I didn’t bulk down. My muscles just took a quick vacation.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Bold of you to assume I have any sense.” He takes the last step up the stairs and comes toe to toe with Kuroo until they’re only a few inches apart. Kuroo raises a challenging eyebrow. Bokuto tries not-so-subtly to straighten his back enough to make up for that one last inch that Kuroo has over him. He’s unsuccessful.

“What are you waiting for?” Kuroo asks. Bokuto shrugs and leans in to kiss Kuroo on the nose.

“Miss me, babe?” he asks.

Kuroo rolls his eyes, tilts up Bokuto’s chin, and kisses him properly.

“You know what I did miss…” Kuroo smirks against Bokuto’s lips. “I missed kicking your ass.”

And then Kuroo almost hip-checks him off the stairs.

_X_

 

"Shit!!" Bokuto screeches as Kuroo blocks yet another perfect slapshot. "Give a guy a break, huh?"

"I'm a defenseman," Kuroo says flatly. "It's my job to give you breaks. Just not during practice."

Bokuto huffs, because  _ obviously _ , he knows that, but Kuroo's expert blocking is not doing wonders for his self-confidence. Maybe Kuroo is a defenseman, but Bokuto is a right winger. His job is to score.

"Hey, that one was really fuckin' close, man," Komi says, rolling his shoulders under the goalie padding. "I saw the whole thing, and Kuroo only barely stopped that one, no matter how cool he's trying to make you think he is."

Bokuto grins. Thank god for Komi, honestly. What a fucking bro. Bokuto is so goddamn lucky to still be playing with one of his old teammates from high school.

"Thanks, man," he says. "Not even Cap here can block my shots forever—I'm a fucking beast."

Kuroo shakes his head, but he's got that sly grin of his tugging at the corners of his lips, so Bokuto knows he’s not  _ really  _ annoyed. "Again," Kuroo says. "Let's run it from the top."

 

_X_

 

When practice finally ends, Bokuto feels a little like he has to drag himself to the locker room. He's exhausted. His legs are so worn out that he can feel his heartbeat in his quads, which is a really  _ not _ a fun sensation. Maybe Kuroo was right about him bulking down.

At least he knows Kuroo must be just about as wiped as he is—he was moving nonstop for most of the session.

Bokuto starts taking off his gloves, dropping them on the bench next to his helmet and stick. Then he pulls his jersey up over his head.

He's using the jersey to wipe up some of the extra sweat from his forehead when he notices Kuroo watching him. He turns to meet his eyes, raising an eyebrow slightly, but Kuroo just keeps staring, and... Hm. Okay, then.

Bokuto takes his time changing after that. He chats, wanders, jokes, dawdles. He's still taking off his skates by the time most of the rest of the team is heading to the showers—most of the rest of the team except Kuroo, that is.

"You guys go on ahead—Bokuto and I will catch up," Kuroo says as the rest of the team begin to finish up. Akaashi gives Bokuto a bit of a look, but doesn't say anything as he follows the rest out of the locker room. Within another couple minutes, Bokuto and Kuroo are alone.

"Hey," Kuroo says after a beat.

Bokuto ambles over, swinging his towel lazily as he goes. "I thought that was supposed to be my line," he says. "Hey yourself."

“You really put the ‘sweat’ in the ‘sweater’ today, eh?”

“Pretty sure the top layer of ice for the last fifteen minutes was just a sheet of my own frozen sweat.”

Kuroo lets out a short hiss of a laugh at that. Bokuto comes to a stop a few inches from Kuroo, too close to be casual, and Kuroo sets down his shin guard.

The moment before Kuroo leans in to kiss him is charged, filled with a static energy that sets Bokuto's heart racing quicker than any suicide runs.  _ Finally. _ He's kissing back before Kuroo even has a chance to think about pulling away, pressing forward slightly to back Kuroo into the bench. Kuroo's tongue licks at the seam of Bokuto's lips, so he parts them eagerly, letting Kuroo inside.

"Fuck..." Kuroo murmurs. "You were so good out there today, babe. I was having such a hard time blocking those shots...."

"Yeah?" Bokuto asks, but the praise already has him glowing.

Kuroo hums against his lips, drawing out one last long kiss before leaning back on his heels and pulling away. "Yeah, Bokuto," he says, his voice dropping. "There's no one else I'd rather have on my starting offensive line."

"Ooh, talk dirty to me," Bokuto jokes, even though he's not complaining, really. Anything Kuroo says in that tone of voice would probably still do it for him.

"Speaking of dirty..." Kuroo says, sniffing and wrinkling his nose. "We need to fucking shower."

"And catch up with the rest of the team."

"Yeah, and that."

"So..." Bokuto grins. "Wanna go for a run later?"

"Are you fucking serious?" Kuroo squints. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

Bokuto shrugs. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be running. We could weight lift. Or do the ellipticals. Or zumba. Or…” He waggles his eyebrows. “Another kind of exercise.”

“Tsk. We’ll see.”

It’s not a no.

They head to the showers, shoulders bumping, fingers brushing just barely. In the lobby with the rest of the team, Bokuto doesn't even complain about the length of Kuroo's post-practice strategy talk. He has something to look forward to.


End file.
